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Chapter Thirteen: A Different Shade of Beauty
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2024-10-29 19:42:56There are many ways to fight like a man, but there is no one way to fight like a man. Since the beginning of things, men have fought and been fought, anyone could easily say mankind has lived only to perfect the art. So when people asked a person to fight like a man, Kilvic was always confused at the request.
To fight like a man, apparently, was to fight with honor and grace and class and other things of the sort. The truth? It was all hubris. Such notions and dispositions were found in duels. In a fight, they were a quick way to lose; it was not their place. Thus, he could agree that these notions and ideals were what it meant to duel like a man. Regardless, to fight like a man means to do anything to win, which meant a man should be willing to claw and scratch and bite. Hitting below the belt wasn’t left out, and the occasional sand toss and spitting was as fair as anything else could be. Some would say these acts were unsavory and considered cheating, but that was wh
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Kilvic and his friends left the academy gate and chattered a carriage that took them into the city. The sun was nearing its peak when they arrived in the city and the buildings around them, as tall as the Carag hall, with glass fitted into their walls facing the streets, flanked them on both sides. Each one was separated from the next by dark alleys, and their signboards marketed their names in less elusory letterings than the ones that adorned their glasses.Their carriage pulled to a stop behind a line of other carriages, and while the clacking of the horse shoes on cobblestone ceased, the clacking of horseshoes outside continued to litter the air. Stratin paid the man and they disembarked in front of a cobbler’s shop with a glass that portrayed a variety of shoes and boots that Kilvic decided to return for before the day was done.They strolled the streets, subjecting themselves to the leisure of sightseeing. They engaged in easy conversations, witty banter, a
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It was a short walk to the platform that held the massive harp, and Kilvic took his time covering it. Ariadne had succeeded in turning him from Moss’ idea the moment she’d asked him of its benefit. At that moment, he’d remembered something he’d always wanted to try since before leaving mount Trenon, and here was a splendid opportunity as any.In Zeldric the art of performance was underappreciated. In truth, it was also underappreciated in a few other kingdoms. But it was worse here. Performances the likes of singing and the playing of instruments was at the heart of the kingdom of Almada’s belief however, where it was said to have originated from when the kingdom’s troubadours had migrated from its borders in search of newer audience who would marvel at their art.As the saying goes: to be an Almadan is to be an artist.Kilvic climbed the wooden steps to the platform, unnoticed by anyone but a few serving girls, the bartender,
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When Kilvic arrived at his seat it was a while longer before the madness subsided. Many people came to their table almost immediately, offering their appreciation. Some spoke of a gratitude for being given the chance to hear something beautiful. A few people offered to buy him drinks and Moss advised that refusing such offers would be disrespectful. Kilvic had a feeling the boy just wanted more to drink. Still, he accepted the offers, receiving only drinks with the littlest of alcohol. And while the number of those who stopped by dwindled, and the tavern ran out of serving girls who hadn’t given him a note or two surprisingly bearing contents ranging from outright invitations to the free comfort between their legs to addresses and professions of sudden love, he wondered at how much longer they would stay.Kilvic and his companions stayed one more hour after his performance, during which he drank a cup of elderberry while Tudi watched him with open hunger and Ariadne wat
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The air was cool with the teasing whisper of a promising winter when Kilvic and his companions stepped out of the tavern. The sun was still high in the sky, however, it was no confusion that they had lost some time. Kilvic tightened his hold on the bottle in his hand and turned down the tavern steps onto the sidewalk, and his friends followed.“I didn’t know you knew how to play the harp,” Moss said as they walked down to the nearest junction.Kilvic didn’t take his eyes of the road. “I know.”“Where did you learn?” Tudi asked.“Back home.”“It was a beautiful piece,” she said. “What’s the name?”“Clara,” Ariadne answered.Somehow Tudi had ended up beside Kilvic and Ariadne walked on the other side of the girl. Until now, she’d been busy ticking of a mental list on her fingers and frowning.“Just Clara?” Tudi
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“…You were the one that chose him, remember?” one of the men with a scattered mop of hair on his head was saying. “We watched them, paid attention, and when you saw him play at the bar you chose him. ‘a boy that plays like that wouldn’t have much love for combat’ you said. Remember?” The man was frantic but the one that had led Kilvic’s quarry into the alley calmed him, then turned to the man in the jacket. “Were you followed?” “No,” Kilvic’s quarry answered. “How can you be sure?” “Because I used that running away technique you showed me,” he answered. “The one where I use the alleys and cross the roads. I don’t know why I had to do all that, I could’ve been here long sooner.” Then he turned to one of the other men, satisfied with his own answer, and asked, “What happened to your face?” The man questioned put a hand to his face then turned and drove a vicious kick into the side of one of the students lying on the floor, inciting a pained groa
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Kilvic tapped Ariadne’s cheek, drawing her attention to him, and not just whatever she didn’t like about him. “I need your help Ariadne.” “Go fuck yourself,” she spat. “You never want anyone’s help, let alone my own.” He ignored her rage. “Well I need it now.” “Why should I help you?” “Because we’ll all die if you don’t,” he told her, soaking the words in sorrow and remorse. He could’ve gone over to Moss or Stratin, shaking them from the strong hold of the spell would be easier than shaking Ariadne; he knew them better. But they didn’t possess the skill she did, and he knew nothing about Tudi to help. He looked at Ariadne, eyes pleading. “Please, help me.” She ceased her struggling and looked at him with a frustrated sigh, but he could see she was now willing. “What do you want, mister Rudric?” He ignored the mockery in her voice. “A concordance spell.” “What for?” She looked at him, suspicious. “I won’t help you make Tudi pay
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Morning found Kilvic and his friends in the headmaster’s office mere moments after their lesson under Haru’s tutelage. The morning was cold, and while winter was still weeks away, a month at the least, it could be tasted in the air.The room, walled in bookshelves, which though almost imperceptible, were covered in more books than the last time he’d been here, smelled of a type of incense he couldn’t name. The point of the summons was as clear as day. Deidrich, who now stood beside the headmaster’s chair, had come for them at some point during their training, and Haru had ended the lessons rather than release them to the guard’s care and have them miss any other thing he would’ve felt important enough to teach.‘And none of you recognize your captors?” Headmaster Skanriv asked for the second time since they’d entered his office, his old voice weary.Even now, Kilvic had not heard any question directed s
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Kilvic’s time at the headmaster’s office caused him grave delay, and in order not to prove tardy to the second lesson of the day, Kilvic was forced to forgo his breakfast, crashing through a quick bath and a haphazard dressing.The lessons for the day proved a bore and a tasking ordeal, as linking sphere, the only class which he attended easily, wasn’t on the timetable for the day. He was forced to bull through the mental class, where the instructor continued to teach them how best to link with each other’s minds without corrupting their targets and themselves, which was all well and good when it was considered that the final test of the semester would involve linking with four students of their choice.Elemental class came immediately after, and like the one before it, Kilvic struggled to excel at the task required of them. Like the linking, summoning, and mind classes, it was the only other class where they actually indulged in practical exerc
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Moss said nothing for a moment, and Kilvic continued to stare out at the arena, at their hall mates training. Lacra remained powerful, her attacks brutal. But Gyra remained standing, bracing against her charges, casting aside spells where he would, evading where he would. The boy was powerful for one his age.When Moss spoke he sounded more confused than irate. “It’s how you say these things with a straight face that’s creepy. I don’t know if you are angry, bored or worried. Which is it?”Kilvic thought about it briefly. It was a logical question. Why had he said it when he hadn’t needed to? Moss had given him a piece of advice, and he’d given one in return. Was it the reference to the magi that had spurred him to speak. Yes, the magi were what mages were called in the older times when they had engaged in combat from a distance. They were mages who had failed once their opponents engaged them in the melee, something very simila
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“Did we win?” Stratin broke the silence that enveloped the arena, voice panting. “Did we?”Kilvic spared him a solitary glance. Did it matter? There had been four of them against one of her. Though victory should be taken in whatever form it came, this was a victory he cared nothing for. If your life was truly at stake you would. Kilvic almost frowned at his own thought. It was right. Still…He sighed. “Yes, we won.”As if released from a spell, Stratin slumped to the ground in relief.Ahead of them Fyodan approached. Behind them, Moss lumbered along damaged bones no doubt mending themselves. The amount of reia required to create, and operate such an arena needed to be greatly vast. Here, unlike the arena used for the winter hall fest, death was not circumvented. But a vast room that could heal wounds on the scale of even broken bones in mere minutes was powerful… too powerful.&ld
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Ariadne was staring.“He talks in your minds?” she said, again, in disgust. “How do you allow that.”“He’s strong,” Stratin offered mildly. “I couldn’t shake him.”Moss shrugged. “Me neither.”To Moss, she replied, “Any oaf with half a brain could see that. You have the will power of a dead fish, Moss.” She turned her attention to Kilvic. “And you?”“He had something to say.” Kilvic thought about it, then changed his answer. “I thought he had something to say. But he was also helping me spar.”Ariadne raised a brow. “How?”“Pointing out my weaknesses. Showing me where I should’ve capitalized.”“Moss could help you with that. Heck, Lacra would be more than happy if Gyra refuses.”“Gyra has offered,” Stratin pointed out.Ariadne turned to him. &
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Kilvic staggered backwards, his body held incline into a fall. His feet were the only things that kept him up. Counting away in multiple minute steps, they kept him up, kept him from the fall as he pushed away, increasing the distance. The deadman’s walk came easier to him now. Of all the moves they were taught, it came the easiest, the simplest. Perhaps it was his favorite now. Perhaps not. It definitely kept him away from the pain. After three breaths he staggered into position, returned into a defensive form.Naralayn had done much to remain his sparring partner, but ever since Stratin had proved more sufficient it had become harder for the young noble to choose him for a partner. Naralayn did not cease in his attempts though, until their instructor determined having Naralayn as a sparring partner was not good for the young noble’s development. So, today, Kilvic found Sharmin as his sparring partner. And Sharmin was an easier opponent to survive agains
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Outside, the arena remained its cacophony of training, students panting with the exaggerated stress of those who’d worked themselves. But Vilan did not pant, and neither did Gyra. Vilan sat in the sand, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and face bowed in hiding. Around him reia worked. Unrefined lumps of sand the size of an adult’s head hovered about him, four orbs—if they could be called such. And before the boy, hidden from his view, a staff trembled in the sand. Kilvic paused to watch all this, ignoring Gyra’s noted attention on him.Ariadne stopped beside him, turned her attention to what had his, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Four links,” she gasped. Kilvic was not certain if she was impressed or underwhelmed.Seven, Kilvic corrected mentally. Barely perceptible, two clusters of air hovered, struggling to maintain their new nature. Ariadne had not counted the boy’s link to the staff either,
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“Same as last year.” Lacra made a grunting sound like gravels scraping. She coughed, turned her head to the side, and spat out a blob of blood stained spittle. “Same as last fucking year.”She was seated on the sand. Her tattered clothes did not leave much for imaginations, but the necessary parts were covered and she cast the perfect look of a warrior from battle. Gyra and Kilvic stood in front of her. Around them the others were beginning to rise groggily. It had been roughly fifteen minutes since Lacra had surrendered and Kilvic noted her injuries were gone, completely healed. He turned his head to Fyodan where he stood, the first to come to his feet. Behind him the crack in the arena wall was also gone. Healing or reconstructive, he wondered. They did not have an arena like this in castle Grey. They did not have an arena that fixed itself… or those within it.Its effects were slow, but each of the students were comin
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Everything happened quickly. The boys and girls roared into each other. It was not the skirmish of the non-mages. There was no physical clashing involved. This was a skirmish for those who trained to become great mages in the future. A few fists were thrown, but most of all, spells came flying, and the ambient reia was disturbed as if by the fury of a crashing wave.Trudi was all smiles as she sent spells flying, simple incantations after the other. Unlike the boys, the girls seemed to possess a chosen strategy. Some bought time for the spellcasters, dispensing physical oppression upon the boys. Lacra moved like a force to be reckoned with. Her steps were quick, carrying her across the arena in short bursts. She was everywhere she needed to be to support her team when they needed it. A fist here and there, forcing a boy or the other into defense where they’d been going for offense.Moss forced his way into the enemy, a battering ram in his form, arms crossed over
